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#3311 Penthesilea
The Dining Hall
*About halfway through the meal, the Castle's primary Bard appeared at her elbow.* All is in readiness, my Lady. *Penthesilea had nodded and the woman had returned to her duties. Then, Penthesilea leaned over and spoke to her brother.* Don't run off after dinner. I've thought of a way to further disturb our guests. You won't want to miss it.
*Daemon was curious but knew better than to ask. Penthesilea kept her secrets well and from the sly smile on her face and the hard look in her eyes, this one was good.
Penthesilea listened attentively to Lord Gallagher's discourse on the economics of the dried eel trade and thought about other things. Specifically, a way out of this mess that did not involve massive amounts of bloodshed. Not that she was opposed to bloodshed. She could be as bloodthirsty as any other member of her father's clan. The Light in her soul was balanced by the Dark and she had long ago embraced both sides and called on them as needed. It was just that she preferred to get some benefit from it and at this point, bleeding this bunch of popinjays like slaughtered hogs would get her nothing but more trouble than she could handle. The only way out that she could see was to scare them off. Have them return to their respective kings with tales of the wild Amazon and her bloodthirsty brother and begging to be let off the hook. She was about to behave in a fashion completely in character for her, a former High Priestess of Aphrodite, but completely shocking to the straitlaced nobility of the Coast who expected women to sit down, shut up and do as they were told. At that thought, Penthesilea smiled a tight, feral smile that her brother noticed and no one else did. If that's what they're looking for, they've come to the wrong place... she thought.
*The dessert course over, Penthesilea called for attention* If everyone will assemble in the Ballroom, I've arranged a special entertainment. I will join you in a few minutes. *Then, smiling, the Keyholder retired to her tower.*
#3312 Penthesilea
The Great Hall
*Penthesilea emerged from her Tower swathed in a long black velvet cloak that concealed her dancing costume which consisted of a black bra covered in silver coin, a belt that matched, a full sheer black skirt over tight briefs and a black veil. She wore finger cymbals on her hands and was barefoot. Sir Alexander and Sir Michael fell in on either side of her and together they entered the Ballroom. The stage and the musicians were ready. Penthesilea saw the puzzled frowns on the suitors' faces and smiled. They probably thought she was going to sing. The lesson that she and Daemon had given them that afternoon needed to be reinforced. The Keyholder Penthesilea was no man's plaything or pawn. She was not some simpering fool who could be won with insincere flattery and kept with crumbs of affection. She was not a key to power. She was Power. She could not and would not be dominated or owned. She would eat alive any man who tried and spit out his bones! She showed her teeth in a fierce grin. Let then see, those silly, ambitious fools, what they were trying to possess and tame! She was in the right frame of mind when they reached the stage. She doffed her cloak which she handed to Sir Alexander, whose eyes glowed with appreciation. She turned then to Sir Michael and held out her arms to him. Ever obliging, he lifted her and placed her on the stage. She grinned at him and stood up to take her place in the center of the stage. The suitors were furious. Sir Michael was a very handsome man and he had touched her with easy familiarity. They no doubt believed Michael was her lover. What he was was one of her favorite unarmed combat sparring partners. When you pummel a man on a regular basis -- and he pummels you back -- you develop such familiarity quickly.
In the center of the stage, she sank to the floor to await her cue. She had learned many dances in Aphrodite's Temple. Some were meant to be danced only among women, others were for joy or sorrow, celebration or mourning. And some were meant for a lover alone. What she would dance tonight was none of these. This dance was hers alone created by Terpsichore, the Muse of Dance, as the ultimate expression, in movement, of everything -- Light and Dark -- that Penthesilea was.
The music began and, eyes closed, she began to sway, slowly from side to side. She slid her hands up her neck to lift her hair and let it fall. Her arms began to move with her torso. She allowed the arm movements to pull her to her knees and she opened her eyes. The suitors were clustered around the stage, their faces hard with greed. She shot them a look of contempt and then ignored them. There were faces in the crowd that she sought out -- family and friends well known and dear to her. She rose to her feet and began the dance in earnest. As she moved her hips in slow circles, she allowed her mind to drift back to the night that she had surprised her Lord Marshall by appearing at his Night Club and asking to dance on his bar. He had permitted it and she had danced for joy -- and the look on his handsome face. At the end she had disappeared in the middle of a spin only to reappear in his arms to steal a kiss that she had desperately wanted and needed. From the first moment that she had seen him, she had wanted to tease him and torment him and push him to see if he could stand up to her. To see if he was strong enough to be with her. His face rose in her mind as she moved through the abdominal rolls and hip shimmies. His dark eyes capturing and cradling her soul. He wasn't there. She danced for him anyway. She let the Dark rise in her as much as the Light and it was there for anyone with eyes to see.
The music ended and she sank again to the floor. Wild applause erupted and she rose and took her bows. Then with Michael's help, she climbed down from the stage and drew her cloak around her. She had no sooner done so than the suitors arrived in mass. Lord Podraza seemed to be their spokesman. He certainly seemed the most indignant. Judging from the looks on the faces of the others, they had gotten at least some of what the dance was intended to convey. This is no ordinary woman. Proceed with caution. *
Lord Podraza: My Lady! Such a display is hardly befitting a lady of rank! You must think of your reputation and have some consideration for your future lord!
Penthesilea: "My future lord" should know what he's getting into! This is my Castle. I make the rules. Do not forget that! *With that she turned her back on them and with her knights in tow, moved off into the crowd. Behind her, unnoticed in the press, a man watched with cold eyes...*
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Penthesilea's Castle... posts 3200 to 3399 (Read 12821 times)
